


brush of lips

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Canonical Character Death, Kissing, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 12:32:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14425476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Loki wakes from a nightmare.





	brush of lips

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous: I have a frostmaster prompt... Loki waking from a nightmare about Frigga

The halls of the Palace of Asgard are long and winding, much more so than Loki had remembered, and he speeds his gait as he walks with long-legged grace from one corridor to the next. He finds he has lost his way, and yet as he looks at the gilded walls, the windows, the curtains, even the art upon the walls, he finds that nothing is familiar, nothing! The palace seems labyrinthine where once it was home, and Loki can feel his heart pounding ever louder, ever faster in his chest.

There is a trail of blood on the polished marble of the floor, and he is following it. The blood is thick and red ( _so unlike your own, you Jötunn thing)_ , and as he follows it he feels a mounting dread, mounting, mounting—

Mother lies in a pool of blood in the centre of the glass-ceilinged room that once been the library: now, the shelves are tossed asunder, and every book is thick and pregnant with the blood it has observed.

Loki is standing over his Mother, begging her, _gasping_ out his pleas, his desperations, as he attempts to clasp his hands over her neck – and wasn’t it the same with Angrboða, her neck open, her lifeblood eking out? _Thor, too, Thor will die one day—_

“Your fault, Loki,” Mother whispers, her voice soft and warm, and Loki sobs as she pats his cheek: her blood leaves sticky residue on his skin, and when he wakes, gasping in bed, his skin is so hot he genuinely feels quite ill, and he scrambles out of the nest of sheets he is tangled in, nearly ripping the silk in his haste to escape.

He bends over the sink in the bathroom, pressing his face as much as it will go beneath the rushing water of the cold tap, and he feels the shape of the Grandmaster behind him, his hand gently touching Loki’s naked spine.

“Nightmares?” he asks, tone as silky as the sheets Loki had been in, and he nods. Water is thick into his hair, leaving it to drip down his shoulders as he stands up, and the Grandmaster tuts quietly, his hand touching Loki’s damp neck as he turns to face him, and his thumb traces the length of Loki’s jaw, gentle, warm.

“My mother,” Loki murmurs. He doesn’t know why the confession comes so easily, when he has known En Dwi Gast for so short a time – and yet, time runs differently on Sakaar. He has been here _years_ , from some perspectives. “She died.”

“People do,” the Grandmaster says, not without sympathy. “You, ah, you okay?”

“I don’t think I can sleep anymore,” Loki murmurs, running his hand through his hair. “Go back to bed, my friend – I shall take a promenade.” The Grandmaster leans in, drags his lips over Loki’s forehead: the touch is positively meaningless, merely a warm touch of lips, and yet Loki feels himself freeze, looking at the other man and feeling his very heart in his mouth.

“Okay,” he murmurs, walking back to bed, and Loki watches him go, feeling the ghost of the Grandmaster’s lips against his damp hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Check out [my Tumblr](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com) for more, or if you want to send in a request.


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